4:6
“Hear… Whoa!” Gwen reared back as a creature came skittering along the mass of threads, a dark spot against the glow. “Kim can you dim the fire a little so we can see that?”
“Uh, I’ll try. How about I also step to the side to give you a better view.” Doing just that she scrunched her face up, like she was doing an abdominal contraction, and then the fire’s glow dropped by a measure of degrees. It left black spots in Patti’s eyes, making it hard to discern the figure that was positioned in the threads. Finally, after a moment and some serious blinking, the figure resolved into a small mouse. As if sensing their interest it scurried along the threads, drawing slightly closer, its movements unhindered.
The threads didn’t reach for it. Instead they spread on the air, taking advantage of the reduced ball of fire and moving closer to Kim, Patti, and Gwen.
Cocking its head it contemplated them, then raised a hand and gave a tentative wave.
“Did that mouse just wave at us?” Patti muttered from the side of her mouth.
“Think so.” Gwen said, equally quietly. “Why are we whispering?”
“Except for the fact that a mouse is waving at us and I’m a little wigged? I’m pretty sure the threads locate by sound.”
“So,” Gwen kept her voice low. “That thing you did where your voice came out of the threads?”
“Threw my voice. I’d been thinking about how to do it for a while but never had a good reason to try.”
“Cool,” Kim extolled. “Science!”
“So,” Patti mumbled. “Waving mouse?”
“Might be a Magick mouse.” Gwen replied quietly.
“Really?” Working as she did at the bar Patti didn’t spend a lot of time in environments where she’d encounter Magick Animals. She’d heard they existed but seeing what might be one face-to-face, as it were, was a revelation. Soft memories of childhood wishes to be able to communicate with her beloved dog flowed through her mind, causing her mouth to curve on a gentle smile. Magickal mice. Wow. Maybe she hadn’t made the *worst* choice saying she’d come along on this adventure. “How do you tell the diference?”
Kim shrugged. “Usually Magick creatures don’t immediately attack like the rats in the other room did. They will if you attack them but otherwise they’re more like us. In the sense that they’re living their lives. Chilling. Taking it in. And, you know, the waving could be kind of a giveaway.”
Okay. Sure. What the fuck? Patti raised her hand and waved back. The mouse twitched its head forward and waved harder, then gave a warbling squeak.
Patti frowned, feeling a touch of Magick tickling at her senses. “Do you feel that?” she shot from the side of her mouth.
Gwen frowned. “No. Not really. I feel an itch but I’m not scratching it.”
The mouse gave another peep. It had a note of frustration in it. Like, c’mon here large creatures, catch what I’m sending your way!
Patti took a deep breath through her nose, filled her lungs with a mix of air and Magick, then released it with intent, doing her best to replicate the peep. The mouse perked up, cocked its head. Perped back, clearly responding. It just sounded like a noise, though she did feel the brush of Magick rubbing against hers like it was butting her with its head. Guess she didn’t magically get the ability to talk to animals, but Patti was pretty sure the mouse had caught her drift.
“What should I do?” she side-mouthed to Gwen.
“Fuck if I know,” Gwen mouthed back.
“Why isn’t it attacking us?”
“Maybe it wants to help?” Gwen suggested, staying very still.
“Maybe you should ask it to?” Kim suggested, staying just as still.
What could it hurt? Patti formed a thought then shook her head, realizing the way she thought in words might not work here. Instead she formed an image, of the cocoons releasing and disgorging the trapped people within. Then she mixed Magick and breath again and sent an intent-laced squeak towards the mouse.
The mouse cocked its head, considered, then held its tiny little hand up in what appeared to be a high five. Hate to leave you hanging, my friend, Patti thought. She squeaked again, filling her mind with gratitude and joy.
Perking up, the mouse did a happy little wiggle, then let out a wicked peep that warbled through the space. The tendrils writhed at the sound, grasping the air in a hungry dance. Patti bit her lip and waited for them to latch onto the mouse. When instead the tendrils redirected themselves towards the ceiling, poking at the cocooned people, Patti let out her breath.
The threads seemed the most interested in Dan. There had to be eleven of the things spinning and weaving around him, poking at his exposed face. Several traced his gaping mouth, then drew back and a moment later the color in his face got a little better like the threads had loosened around him.
Weird. Patti would have reflected more but got distracted by the sound of skittering and clawing. From the darkness more mice clamored along the threads until the glow of the filaments were dotted by tiny little dark mouse constellations. The first mouse, Patti’s mouse, waved its little paw, gesturing as it make squeak, sqwack, peep noises that the other mice followed intently. When the mouse stopped its explaining, because what else could it be, the other mice scattered, heading for the cocooned bodies at the ceiling level.
Kim stiffened, her gaze going to where Ben was wrapped tight with Ivan. His cocoon twitched spastically as several mice started pulling at the threads binding him. Across the expanse of the ceiling other mice were doing similarly to the other bound figures. Siobhan’s eyes widened, clear in the glow of the filaments, then closed. They remained closed as mice slowly pulled the threads. Prairie’s response was to give a gentle smile of sweet delight as a mouse peeped at her and began unwinding a thread that had woven through her hair.
While there was a lot of mice they could each only handle one thread at a time and there were a lot of threads binding each of the people. At this rate they might get out of here sometime next year. And by the varying colors of their skin, they each seemed to be in a similar way to Dan. They couldn’t afford to wait through the slow, tedious process.
“This is going to take a year,” Patti muttered to Gwen.
Gwen nodded her agreement. “I think they need to focus on one of the cocoons.”
“I think so too. Dan’s been up there the longest by a second. Let’s try for him.”
Patti looked directly at her mouse and squeaked a Magick squeak in which she projected an image of the mice all working on freeing Dan. The mouse wriggled and then squeaked loudly. All the working mice stopped what they were doing and listened, then as one surged for Dan. Ben’s cocoon visibly contracted as they cut a path across him.
With close to fifty mice working diligently Dan’s cocoon quickly began to diminish. In the matter of a few minutes his clothing was visible through the threads. Then the filaments loosed more around his leg and one thick knee popped through followed by the lower leg clad in a heavy boot. The mice responded with more fervor, pulling and tugging and spinning the threads into little balls which they shoved into the mass of writhing tendrils around them.
Once his other leg fell out Dan began to make subtle wiggles and kicks to free himself. A mistake as the movements caught the attention of the tendrils and several darted forward, rewrapping his leg. He must have felt this as he ceased his wriggling and left the mice to their work.
Patti’s mouse continued to marshal its forces with little squeaks and peeps and waves of its hands to various zones on Dan’s trapped frame. Patti’s lips curved up because it was So Damned Cute.
Under all of it a very soft, very subtle verse played. Patti hummed, Magick filtered softly through the air, easing its way through the filaments like a whisper. Or maybe the song eased its way through the filaments and into her?
There was a really infectious beat that made her want to shake her shoulders to it. And then out of the depth of her subconscious came the lyrics, “Whether you’re high or low, whether you’re high or low, whether you’re high or low you got to tip on the tightrope.”
She couldn’t keep it in. It was like something compelled her to sing. So she did and hoped like fuck that it wasn’t the wrong call and the three of them weren’t about to be grabbed and cocooned. “Some people talk about ya like they know all about ya.”
Nothing. Well, no, she thought narrowing her eyes on the mass of moving threads. Not nothing. The threads sway was changing, taking on a shimmy and a shake. Tears pricked her eyes. She pressed her hand to her nose, then lowered it and really cut loose.
“When you get down they doubt ya and when you tip it on the scene, yeah they talkin’ bout it cause they can’t tip on the scene.”
The threads cocooning the figures held their formation but the free-range ones gyrated to the song, dancing on the air in a light-show that would make a rave promoter or Disney animator weep.
Laughing joyfully, Gwen came in on the next verse, “They just talk about it, t-t-t-t-talk bout it. When you get elevated, they love it or they hate it. You dance up on them haters; keep getting funky on the scene.”
Kim whooped and started dancing with her upper body as the chimed in, “While they jumpin round ya; they trying to take all of your dreams.”
While the song seemed to influence the threads to dance it gave the mice more pep to their step in freeing Dan. More clothing was revealed until the weight of Dan’s lower body dangling from the cocoon sent him shooting for the floor.
Kim stopped singing, drew in a hard breath, and blew upwards, catching Dan in a cradle of air. Drawing her breath back in and calling the air back to her she lowered him carefully to the ground. The tendrils seemed to suddenly realize they’d lost their prey. They stopped dancing and darted in a tight wedge towards Dan. Kim hopped forward with a fireball in her upturned palm and the threads pulled back. Gwen darted forward and hooked her arms under his and tried to pull him back but he was a large man and he barely budged.
Patti pulled a big old breath in then darted forward, singing into the mass of threads as she ran and daring them to DANCE. “But you can’t allow it cause baby whether your high or low; whether you’re high or low; you gotta tip on the tightrope!”
And they DANCED. Like they couldn’t do anything else. Patti skidded to a stop next to Dan and dug her arms under his legs. Together she and Gwen lifted him, his butt sagging towards the ground and straining their arms as they scurried back to the relative safety of the wall. Once they were clear Kim backed away, swinging the fireball to keep any threads that were escaping the demand of Patti’s Magick from wrapping around her.
She bust out laughing as she stepped in front of where Gwen was ministering to Dan, checking his vitals and slowly pumping strength into him through her hands.
“Not a Siren, huh?” she murmured so only Patti could hear.
“Maybe I’m an animator,” Patti murmured back.
Kim hummed. “Maybe you’re a Siren.”
Patti held up a finger to her lips then continued singing, buying Gwen time to revive Dan. With a shrug Kim joined in. At Patti’s lifted brows she shrugged and stopped singing to say, “What? It’s catchy.” She shook her shoulders and bounced her head. “I am so damned glad Siobhan got you to come along!”
“What this doesn’t always happen?”
“No. No. Not so much.”
The mice, directed by their mini-general, had moved on to start releasing Prairie. Maybe it was the encouraging smile that drew them to her. Who knew. Even at the speed they’d freed Dan it seemed like a slow slog until Siobhan, Prairie, Ben, and Ivan were clear.
They’d hit the line “I can’t complain about it. I gotta keep my balance and just keep dancin’ on the scene,” when they heard a deep drawn in gasp.
Dan came to consciousness and jolted up to a sit in a single move, lofted by the gasping breath. Gwen fell back on her butt, wheeling her arms and drawing Dan’s gaze.
He took two hard breaths and then his gaze focused. He didn’t waste time on thanks or pleasantries. “The threads are part of Story. Here,” he braced a hand on the ground and tried to push himself up.
“Whoa!” Gwen pushed against his shoulder, holding him down but also pushing herself up to her feet using him as a support. “You just got grabbed by a bunch of strings, torn into the air, cocooned, and I’m guessing had the air squeezed from you hard enough that I’m not sure how much longer you’d be able to get enough oxygen to keep your brain processing.”
Dan tried to rise again but his legs were wet noodles.
“At least let me,” Gwen stepped in close, looped her arms under his armpits and heaved upwards. Combined with the push of his weak legs he managed to gain his feet.
“The threads are a Story.” When he swayed he braced his legs with his hands pressed to his thighs. “I think it was edited down to the ground, leaving all the threads looking for connection. Its why they grabbed us.”
Kim poked at him, her fingers flying like a monkey in a grooming frenzy. He dodged her fingers with a ‘what the fuck’ expression.
“Why aren’t you bleeding?”
“What?”
“It was really crazy and there were a lot of flying threads and chaos but I noticed when the threads grabbed the others it made them bleed. You aren’t bleeding. At all.”
Dan looked down at himself, flipping his hands up and down, running his fingers along his neck and face, checking the condition of his skin. “I… don’t… know…” he drew out the words as he tried to process.
“Interesting detail.” Gwen’s tone was abrupt. “But not relevant in the moment. Patti’s friends,” she waved at where the mice were busily working to free Prairie, “did a great job getting you free and seem dedicated to getting everyone else out but I’m not sure how much time we have. The threads contracted hard around you. I cleared out a bunch of subdural hematomas and, more disturbing, a brain bleed caused by the constrictions. I don’t think we have the time to let the mice do their job.”
Dan swayed again. “I think I might be able to do it. That was my point about this being Story.” He waved a hand at the strings which seemed to follow the motion, swaying like a cobra to a pipe. “While I was trapped up there, apparently being squeezed to death.” His nod acknowledged Gwen’s concern. “I started to think. Remember how I referred to the tapestry in Mal’s story?”
Kim and Gwen nodded. Patti looked confused. As quickly as he could Dan summed it up for her. Tapestry. Maybe Story. Drew them in. Seemed to be everywhere. Glowed. At the last he made a hand sweep at the reaching threads. A single thread separated from the rest and slithered through the air to wind around his finger. At first the touch was gentle, seeking, but then it tightened until his fingernail turned white where the blood was cut off by the thread.
Kim flicked up a small flame on her finger and extended it towards the thread which quickly withdrew its grasp.
Dan shook his hand to restore blood flow. “I think they are grasping for connection. Literally. Like that.” He gestured back to the thread which had withdrawn and was pulsing sullenly against the mass of other threads. “I don’t think they meant to hurt us but they’re just threads. No real cognition. Just need.”
Patti frowned. “I think I get it. It’s like this,” she swept her hand outward, “is a cacophony of sound. Like when an orchestra tunes up. It needs direction.”
Dan nodded. “Good analogy. Especially considering they responded to your Song. I think they are so needy that they’ll grab ahold of anything that gives them a sense of rightness. They are meant to be weaved together.”
“Where did they come from?” Kim asked.
“I don’t know. Again this is all theory but I have a way to test it. If I’m right I think it’s the way to free the others.”
Kim spread her hands, sweeping them out in a gesture that said, ‘go ahead’.
Dan unbuttoned the side pocket of his cargoes and pulled out a leather bound volume of Fairy Tales he’d unearthed from another Bibliomancer’s library. It was a first edition Kinder-und Hausmarchen by Jakob and Wilhelm Grimm published in 1812. He was still looking for a first edition of Perrault’s Histoires ou Contes du Temps passe from 1697, but this volume was a jewel. Antiquarians would drool over it; Bibliomancers responses were a little more visceral. He’d had to part with several handwritten journals from his collection in order to acquire it. The cost might just prove itself just. If this worked.
Thumbing to the story of Cinderella he began reading with Magick and intent invested in the words. Like most Bibliomancers he spoke several languages, German being one. It was important to read a work in its original tongue to capture the Magick of it. Translations could work but they were watered down imitations compared to the punch of the original.
As he read the slithering and hissing of the threads roiling over and around each other settled, slowly going almost silent. He didn’t dare look up from the words to gauge what was happening but by the gasps from Kim and Patti something was. There was a wicking sound, a shuttle drawing thread through the shed of a loom, in rhythm with the cadence of Dan’s voice. Then rustling, cloth rippling on a light breeze, followed by a very clear thunk of bodies hitting the floor.
Still Dan didn’t look up until he reached the last word, closed his eyes, and mouthed a Save that contained a Gratitude as he’d been taught by his mentor because you always thanked the Magick. It was polite. It showed respect. And it raised the chance it would respond to your call when you needed it. Following the formalities and the rules and the ‘way things are done’ ninety percent of the time let him call on the Magick with short cantrips and less strictures when he absolutely had to. Whether other forms were held to such tight strictures, Bibliomancy was a formal dance between Magicker and Magick. There was a comfort in it.
As there was in the sight that greeted him when he opened his eyes. Ivan, Ben, Siobhan, and Prairie lay on the floor, each starting to stir as Gwen made a circuit between them. Kim was pulling vials from Siobhan’s strap bandolier, checking to make sure they had one dot on their caps, before administering the potions. Siobhan was, of course, the first to get one poured down her throat. Kim had shifted her into a limp sit, resting against Kim’s collarbone before doing so. Past experience with choking someone they were trying to revive had taught them *that* trick.
Satisfied everyone was free, Dan shifted his gaze to the room at large. The space was still dark as the void but where before it had been pierced by errant ravenous threads now a tapestry rippled. In it shifted images of a fireplace and a woman and mice and clocks and dance floors and slippers and all the other imagery that told the story of Cinderella. Hot Damn, he’d been right!
Clinging to the surface of the tapestry were mice. Lots of mice. Intelligent looking mice. A single one broke from the tapestry and dropped to the floor and waved at Patti. Patti gave a small tentative wave back.
The mouse, Patti didn’t know how she knew it was her mouse but she just *knew*, scampered across the floor and up her leg, digging its claws into her jeans to gain purchase. From there it grabbed a fold of her shirt and vaulted into her cleavage. She stared down in startled confusion as it patted her breast then adjusted itself to face out and pointed its little paw forward with imperious emphasis. On the very periphery of her Magick she heard the distinctive beat from Tightrope. And she smiled.
Dan grinned. “New friend?”
Patti looked up from the mouse and nodded. “Uh huh.”
Kim dropped back to where Ben was very specifically focusing on straightening his leathers, running his fingers over every seam and clasp to confirm their condition. She sidled up to him and in a low voice asked, “You okay?”
Ben nodded but didn’t stop his studied primping. Kim nodded in return and skipped forward to talk quietly to Prairie.
“Ya good man?” Ivan took up a position next to Ben.
Ben looked up, his eyes wider than normal and snapped. “I. Am. Fine. It’s. All. Good.”
Now someone else might have fallen back at that ‘tude, but Ivan lifted his brows and dropped one eye to half-mast to give Ben ‘a look’. Ben gave him a steady stare then chuffed out a breath. “It really is all good.”
“Cool. Cool. P.S. you need a breath mint. And I really love ya, man, but I’d rather not be that close to you again for that long.”
Ben made a kissy face to which Ivan shuddered dramatically and added, “All the arms and the clingy legs. And the breath.”
Ben lifted a hand as if to pop Ivan in the arm but just let it hover in the air a moment before lowering it again. “Thanks?”
“For what?”
“For being a dick.”
“Always happy to oblige.”
Dan had walked up close to the tapestry and was standing with hands pressed to his lower back as he stared up at it. Poking a toothpick into the corner of his mouth, he worked it up and down as he tracked the images on the cloth.
“Pretty.” Looking down he saw Prairie standing at his side.
“You see anything here?”
“Besides a pretty weaving?”
“Yeah?”
She traced a hand lightly an inch from the surface and nodded.. “Spiritis. There’s death in it.” Frowning, she amended. “Or, not quite death? It’s hard to explain.”
Gwen came up on his other side and stared intently at the tapestry, like she could pick it apart with her gaze. The three of them looked like museum patrons assessing a master work. “There’s life in it too. Not ‘not quite life’. Like actual emotions are in there.” She gave a shudder. “It’s kind of gross.”
Dan slipped the toothpick to the other side of his mouth with his tongue. “How so?”
“Can’t say. Just is.” Obviously sensing this wasn’t really adequate she added, “It’s like I can feel the emotional life of someone all woven into it and it doesn’t feel like they are real happy about it but also it feels kind of exactly right. And I don’t understand it and I know I’m not explaining well but I’m not sure there is a way to explain it well.” She scrunched up her face in a visual shrug. “So, where we go now because way I’m seeing it this is pretty but I don’t want to look at it for the rest of my life.”
Dan reached forward very carefully towards the tapestry and placed his broad fingertip on the dark rectangle of the door in the castle picked out in exquisite detail towards the top and the left.
Enter The Woods 